


between the lines

by stormiscoming



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormiscoming/pseuds/stormiscoming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this world, the first words that your soulmate said to you in your first meeting would be written in your wrist. </p><p>Kuroko found his soulmate in the middle of basketball practice.  The problem was: he was already in a relationship with Aomine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	between the lines

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Kuroko no Basuke.

Akashi introduced a new guy to the team.  Kuroko wondered what he was doing, so late to the season, without holding trials where everybody could see.  Similar unrest stirred among the players at the announcement.  The Americans in the team looked ready to protest, leaping to their feet.  Their big arms and fists twitched, betraying their intentions.  Akashi sent them a serene look.  They sat back down.

“I never failed you before,” said Akashi calmly.  He gestured to Kuroko, and he said in no words at all _I didn’t fail you with him, did I._ Kuroko’s promotion to the varsity team had garnered similar discontent.

In the midst of it all the new guy was grinning brazenly still.  His face looked familiar.  The gait of his limbs were confident, easy, like big felines.  It was then Kuroko realized that it wasn’t so much his face that looked familiar—it was the way he held _himself._ The placement of his long legs, the careless slouch—it was all Aomine somehow.

“Kise Ryota will be joining the junior varsity team until he can prove his worth,” said Akashi loudly.  “Get back to practice now.  Slacking is punishable by death.  Tetsuya, come with me.”

The crowd dispersed.  Aomine touched Kuroko’s neck briefly in support before running to the gathering of the first string practice.  Kuroko felt himself blink in surprise.  What did he do?  He was able to do all ten laps of Indian runs this time.  He hadn’t throw up from exhaustion for a week now.  What’d-?

A smirk etched on Akashi’s face, as if he knew what Kuroko was thinking.  He brought Kise over to where Kuroko was standing.  Confusion made itself known in Kise’s frown.  This close, it suddenly struck Kuroko that the other was very attractive.  Blond hair, hooded eyes, tall figure—he had looked like an oriental prince coming straight from teen fantasy books.

“This is Kuroko Tetsuya,” Akashi put his hand between Kuroko’s shoulder blades.  “He will be in charge of your training.”

It was only then Kise seemed to be aware that there was another person with them.  A myriad of emotions flashed on his eyes: surprise, confusion, and then…?

Kise recoiled, a gun ready to blow.  “This scrawny guy will be my trainer?  No way!”

The words blew like heavy thunder in Kuroko’s ears.  In that instant Kuroko hated him, this stranger named Kise Ryota, who judged people by appearances, who didn’t even care to know Kuroko before laying his verdict…

Who was also Kuroko’s soulmate.

On Kuroko’s wrist was written, in three lines, a handwritten scar, messy and loopy: _this scrawny guy- will be my trainer –no way_

**

The soulmate system was a broken one.  It was far from perfect, Kuroko wondered why God created one at all.  Some people had them hard: their scar read _hello_ or _how do you do_ and they heard this from the cashier, people in the subway, waitress handing out flyers. Some people preferred a gender over the other but found their soulmate in a gender they didn’t like.  Some woke up with a straight line struck across their scar—their soulmate had died, somewhere.  A celebrity had their scar published without their knowledge on social media, and then everybody they came across suddenly babble their scar’s sentence on the first meeting and how could they tell which one was real?  Some found their soulmate twenty years apart in age, when the older one had found a family and had two kids.  Some found their soulmate in their rapists, _bitch you want a piece of this_ their lines had said.

It was a bad system.  Kuroko had had his opinion about this from the day he could understand what his scar had read, but kept it to himself.  How could his soulmate say that to him on their first meeting?  What right did he have?  How could somebody as hurtful as that be able to love him, and how could Kuroko love him back, when he had kept this contempt for years?  What if they got together and all his soulmate said was, _you look bad today I hate your hair no way,_ and _can you express emotions for once oh god no way._

Kuroko washed his hands and looked at his scar, he buttoned up his cuffs and looked at his scar, he combed his hair and looked at his scar; and Kuroko seethed, gradually, like water warmed up slowly to boil. 

**

Kuroko’s answer was important, because whatever he was going to say would be—or have been—written on Kise’s wrist.  He could have said anything other than general lines such as _hello_ or _how do you do_ to spare Kise a lifetime of wondering whether one of those thousand strangers he met was his soulmate.  He could have said _hello I’m your soulmate_ to tell Kise the truth. 

But Kuroko didn’t.  This is what he said: “Excuse me.”

Kise flinched in a full-body way.  “No,” he shouted.  He shook his head.  His hair followed his movement wildly, like gold strings caught in the wind, and Kuroko hated him even more.

 “I thought I would be trained by Aominecchi?” he asked; _pleaded_.  He looked around and pointed at Aomine, who was practicing passing with the Americans.  “Come on, he’s that way!”

Akashi’s eyes narrowed into two angry slits.  “You will train with Tetsuya.”

“No!  Why!”

“Let me rephrase: I don’t really have a need for you on the team,” Akashi told the blond coldly.  His hand left Kuroko’s shoulder, and he crossed his arms.  “You train with Tetsuya, or you will not be on the team at all.”

“But-“

“Go home,” Akashi said sharply.

All fight left Kise when he realized his resistance was futile.  “Fine, whatever,”

 _You don’t even ask me whether I want to train him or not,_ he thought scornfully at Akashi, hoping miserably that the other would pick it up somehow.  His captain could see into the future but he couldn’t read minds, fat load of good that did.  However, Kuroko knew better than voicing his disdain out loud, especially when it was directly against Akashi’s decision.

“Good,” Akashi flipped through the sheets on his clipboard and tapped it absently against his index finger twice.  “Run along, now, that’s a good boy.”

Kise snorted, leaving them to walk in the direction of the basketballs container.  Kuroko felt his wrist to make sure his wristband still covered his scar securely.  Aomine was far away, he couldn’t have heard…. He was the only one who knew what Kuroko’s scar read. 

“I apologize, Tetsuya,” Akashi murmured, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. 

Kuroko glared until his eyes were teary.  “It’s alright, Akashi-kun,” he lied through his teeth and turned on his heels to follow Kise. 

**

The first practice was the hardest.  Kise didn’t dress up appropriately for exercise, so Kuroko sent him off to find some sweats to borrow. 

“I don’t live in the dorms,” Kise scowled.

 _Figures,_ Kuroko thought, because those designer jeans wouldn’t survive the dorms’ laundry machine.  “I do not care, Kise-kun.  You have friends, no?  Ask somebody to lend it to you.”

Kise threw a basketball with so much force to the floor that it bounced back halfway to the ceiling.  Kuroko caught it before it could hurt somebody.  “Why are you making this difficult for me?!”

“I am not.  Kise-kun is the one being irrationally difficult.  Those jeans will restrict your movement.  Those shoes will chafe your toes and hurt your ankles.  Go change, Kise-kun.”

For one second Kuroko thought Kise would refuse and throw another basketball, aimed at Kuroko’s head, this time.  But he didn’t.  He stalked off, stomping his feet along the way. 

It was very easy to hate him at that point, and Kuroko was glad for that fact.  When the practice ended Aomine pulled him aside and asked whether he wanted to stay for extra training.  At Aomine’s arrival Kise’s face changed to that of a puppy, it really was a wonder that he was Kuroko’s soulmate and not Aomine’s.  It looked like he wanted to approach them, but he restrained because Aomine was trying to put his hand up Kuroko’s t-shirt.

Kuroko let him just to see the expression on Kise’s face.  Nothing there. Good.

“I just want to go home.” Kuroko whispered and closed his eyes.  Surrounded by Aomine’s smell and heat, he was almost able to forget a beacon in his mind in the shape of Kise Ryota.  Home was their shared dorm room; Kuroko still hadn’t washed any of his used mugs and Aomine probably let all their dirty clothes spilled out of their damper, but it was home.   

“Huh,” Aomine stepped back and held Kuroko at arm’s length to scan the shorter man for any injury or sign of illness.  “You okay?”

“Tired.”

“You big baby, let’s go home, then,”

“If you call me baby one more time I will hit you.”

“Oh hit me baby one more time!” Aomine sang and avoided Kuroko’s jab at his stomach successfully.  Not giving up, Kuroko chased after Aomine, determined to land a blow.

They ran around the gym for a while.  Aomine took pity on Kuroko, who was out of breath quickly, so he slowed down.

“Okay, okay, yield!” laughing, Aomine put his hands on the air.  He made Kuroko promise not to hit him, but the latter did anyways, after Aomine is in range. 

“You’re so violent to your boyfriend,” said Aomine sadly.  Nevertheless he kissed Kuroko’s sweaty forehead, and rather predictably Kuroko thought everything seem to be okay now.  Aomine tended to have effect on Kuroko like that.  He used to be an empty space but then Aomine gave and gave and _gave_ so much and made Kuroko whole. 

His happiness made Kuroko even guiltier, now.  He owed Aomine his life for fixing him, but look at him now: he hadn’t told him that he had found his designated soulmate.  Aomine deserved to know, but Kuroko had no idea how the other would respond…  Maybe it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t like Kuroko would leave him for that sad excuse of a soulmate anyways...

“Home?” Aomine asked.

“Hmm.  Let me say goodbye to Kise-kun, then.”

“I’ll go ahead an’ change,” Aomine ruffled Kuroko’s hair and left.

The first thing Kise asked when Kuroko got back to him was whether Aomine was his soulmate.  He appeared to be confused; like he was asking a question he should know the answer to, but the answer was lost to him. 

“Boyfriend,” Kuroko answered shortly, raising an eyebrow slightly.  He wanted to lie so badly.  _What is it to you,_ he wanted to challenge, but felt like it was a bit too much.  His pulse danced high and low, like his heart was a drum and a child was given a stick to play with it.  The evening light hit Kise all in the right ways and his scar felt raw.

“Go clean up, Kise-kun,” Kuroko said, and surprised himself with how strong he had sounded.

**

In the night Kuroko couldn’t go to sleep.  His chest was heavy with guilt, little hooks whose ends weighed by Kuroko’s own fear.  His hands shook.  Kise Ryota was made just for him; his other half of the puzzle, the ocean to his earth.  But then there was Aomine, whom Kuroko loved like he didn’t know other ways to love than to love him.  The sky was blue, and Kuroko loved him.  The sun rose from the East, and Kuroko loved him.  The length of one quarter in a basketball game was twelve minutes, and Kuroko loved him.

Aomine might not be his perfect half of the puzzle, but he fit anyways.  Some of his edges overlapped with Kuroko and it was tight in some and too loose in some but they made way for each other, bent and went forward for each other.  Whereas Kise just- fit.  Supposedly.  Kuroko didn’t want to know. 

But some parts of him was telling _wrong wrong wrong._ He shouldn’t have said _excuse me_ \- that was cruel of him.  Kuroko bet Kise was waiting for his soulmate too.  His entire life was probably spent watching strangers walking away after echoing his scar line _._ That girl bumping to him in the park- not the right one.  The taxi driver- not the right one.  That waitress- not the right one.

Kuroko should probably tell him, just like how he should tell Aomine.  But his scar mocked him _this scrawny guy- will be my trainer- no way_ , and Kuroko hurt all over again.  How could somebody say that to their own soulmate.  There was no telling that if Kuroko were to have done the right thing Kise would _not_ say _this scrawny guy is my soulmate no no way._ He would probably vomit from disgust too when he was at it, judging from the way he recoiled from Kuroko. 

And Aomine—he would swear, and he would worry.  He wouldn’t say it but he would worry and then he’d spend his days on the rooftop again, smoking and cussing at everybody and eating yakisoba bread all day and not coming to practice.  He probably wouldn’t kiss Kuroko.  Kuroko would probably die then.  If they broke up over somebody who didn’t even like Kuroko- whom Kuroko didn’t even love- he would probably die.

_Tell them._

No.

_Tell him._

No.  And that was final.

**

The second practice was better before suddenly it took turn for the worse and then it just plunged down straight to hell.  Kise showed up in the right gear.  But then he challenged Kuroko to one-on-one.  _Show me your skill,_ he said, _show me that you’ve got the right to train me¸_ he didn’t say.  When they were finished Kise was so frustrated he was screaming _you’re shit, all talk,_ and _I want to talk to the captain._ All guilt Kuroko had about concealing the truth disappeared in that instant. 

**_This scrawny guy-_ **

On the third day he didn’t show up.  He got a modelling gig, he told Akashi through a text.  He didn’t text Kuroko.

**- _will be my trainer-_**

On the fourth day Akashi dragged them to a corner.  He told Kise to not go back ever again if he couldn’t manage his schedule and prioritize. 

“This is the university basketball team.  If you only want to play around, go to your faculty team.  We only have the best here.  You are frankly a disappointment so far.”

“Even him?” Kise tilted his head at Kuroko.  “I played him.  I’ve got virtually no experience, but he still lost to me.  Why’s he on the team, then?”

 _He’s still here,_ Kuroko didn’t say.  Aomine, who had been hanging around to eavesdrop, jumped to Kuroko’s defense. 

“Fuck you, Tetsu’s great! Who the fuck are you!  You don’t even-!”

Akashi sent Kuroko a look which said clearly, _do something about that monkey._

“Daiki-kun, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not!  Let me punch him- you can’t stop me, Tetsu!”

“No, Daiki-kun,” Kuroko said firmly, pulling Aomine back.  “Please, let me.  My punches are harder than yours.” 

**- _no way_**

And he punched his soulmate right in the face. 

**

That wasn’t actually the meanest thing somebody had ever told him, but old wounds always ached.  Soulmate was supposed to be perfect for each other.  Clearly Kuroko got the short end of the stick in the broken system.  He spent nights in his childhood staring at his scar and wishing it said something else (“ _Who’s there?”_ was Aomine’s first sentence for him, and if only- _if only_ -).  No wonder his mother refused to tell him what his scar said, before he was able to read by himself.  When he finally was able to he had been sick with horror.  As a child it was difficult to understand its meaning-

( _“My soulmate doesn’t want me, Mother?”_ – “ _Oh dear, dear child…  Of course he wants you…  Nobody can’t_ not _want you…  My beautiful son….”_ )

-and all he knew was that his soulmate denied him.  He was unwanted.  He was a cripple.  Unloved.  He would never be happy.

Kuroko had always been a quiet child, and he’d become even more quiet.  At school everybody was showing off their scar and they were so _wanted_ (“ _Mine says_ your eyes are so pretty, _”_ “ _I know my soulmate’s name!  His name is Yusuke look, look!  My scar says_ my name is yusuke _can you see?  See?”_ ) and so loved whilst Kuroko wasn’t. 

He was ashamed of himself.  Of his scar.  So he made himself smaller and prayed nobody would notice him because if they did they’d ask and everybody would make fun of him then.  Kuroko was a defect in the system, and children didn’t like broken things.

**

Kise fell by the sheer force of Kuroko’s hit.  Behind him Aomine whooped in victory.  For one second there was only satisfaction and pride until Akashi called his name. 

“Tetsuya,” Disappointment was apparent on the curl of Akashi’s lips.  “I expected better from you.”

Kuroko’s knuckles stung.  His thumb felt like it was out of its joint, but he straightened his spine and stood tall.  “I am sorry for not being sorry, Akashi-kun.”

“Do you think I will let you go unpunished?”

“No.”  The worst thing Akashi could do was to bench Kuroko for the upcoming friendly match against their rival university.  It was totally worth it.

Akashi looked at his watch and sighed.  “And to think that the Yokohama Institute of Arts team is arriving in twenty minutes,” he said.  “I see.  Daiki- stay on the bench for the next match.  Tetsuya will not learn as long as it only concerns himself.”

“Aw, damn,” Aomine cursed, but he didn’t seem to be upset about it.  Kuroko felt his face drained with color.  No, no, no- not letting him play was totally okay, he couldn’t score anyways, but not to let Aomine play-

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko pled.  “That’s unfair.  Please- bench me for three games, it’s okay- just don’t make Daiki-kun _not_ play- Akashi-kun-“

Akashi looked away.  “My decision is final.  You will play, Tetsuya.  Go change.”

Guilt tripled in Kuroko’s stomach.  It felt like he couldn’t walk with it weighing his body down.  “Akashi-kun-!”

The captain paid him no heed.  Akashi stared down to Kise instead, tapping his left foot twice in agitation. “Ryota.  I have no time dealing with the likes of you.  You’re overstepping your boundaries.  Tetsuya is your senior in the team.  You should respect him.  He is also not a one-on-one player.  Stay if you want to see what he can do.  Otherwise go home, and do not come back.”

Akashi’s jersey billowed behind him as he walked away.  Kuroko watched him leave with horror. 

“Hey hey hey, ’s okay, really,” Aomine laughed, putting an arm around Kuroko’s shoulder and gave him a noogie.  “’S not like it’s an official match.  ’S totally worth it anyways, look at his face,” Aomine pointed his thumb at Kise, who had yet picked himself up from the ground.  The blond looked more shaken than angry, as though he couldn’t believe somebody had the audacity to hit him.  His cheek would swell painfully if they didn’t ice it soon.

Regret crept at Kuroko’s conscience. 

Aomine stooped to Kuroko’s level and whispered to his ear.  “Heard he’s a model,” he snickered.  “Guess he’s not going to, not anytime soon, ha.”

Oh.  Kuroko had forgotten about that his soulmate was famous.  Then not telling him the truth was for the best after all.  Who knew what his mouth would sprout in front of cameras.  But still…

“Are you okay tho’?  Your knuckles are fine?” Aomine took Kuroko’s right hand, which had curled into a fist.  “They’re really red.”

Kuroko winced when Aomine pressed at the first knot, on the base of his index finger.  “I am fine, Daiki-kun.”

“Hey, I see that,” Aomine said.  He pressed at the second knot and observed Kuroko intently, watching for his reactions. 

This time Kuroko was ready.  “It doesn’t hurt,” Kuroko lied.  “A basketball is harder than Kise-kun’s cheek.”

“You don’t punch basketball tho’,” Aomine pointed out.  He pecked Kuroko’s fist softly, and it was due to Kuroko’s manliness that he didn’t melt to the floor. 

Kuroko stole a glance to Kise and found him glare at them.  He was a jerk, but...

“I’ll ice them a bit.  Daiki-kun… Kise-kun admires you a lot.  You should ask him to stay.”

Aomine’s eyes widened.  “Tetsu.  My man.  _No_.”

“He’ll stay if Daiki-kun asks him to,” Kuroko repeated.  “And- and I want to show him what I can do.”

“No, you shouldn’ bother, really.  Tetsu!”

Kuroko extricated his hand from Aomine’s grasp.  “Hmm.  I am sure, Daiki-kun.  Let me get some ice, okay?  And then Daiki-kun should tell him to stay.  Kise-kun will feel less humiliated if I’m not there.”

**

Aomine shuffled closer to Kise, scratching the back of his neck.  He nudged Kise’s foot. 

“Oi.  You.”

“Hmph.  What.”

“Tetsu’s worth ten of you, y’know.  What do you have against him anyways?  I watched you two from the very start, y’know.  Tetsu’s not telling me how bad you were treating him, but I saw.  Didn’ do anything because the guy doesn’t like it when I fight his battles.”

Kise folded his leg to his chest to stop Aomine from kicking his shin repeatedly.  He frowned, eyes looking faraway, as if he was lost and he was looking for his way home. 

“Oi.”

“Stop that.  Ugh. No. I don’t know.  I’ve got nothing against him.  He’s just weak.  I want a better trainer.”

“Fuck you, Tetsu _so_ kicks ass.”

“Ugh. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Aomine echoed.  “You should- y’know.  Stay.  To watch Tetsu kicking ass.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a good player, that’s why.  He’s the only one who can read me on court, y’know.  There’s a reason why he’s in the varsity team.”

“I-“

“Tetsu- why do you bring two ice packs with you- don’t give it to this douche, you’re supposed to be angry- ugh, Tetsu!”

**

Kuroko pulled on his wristband just to feel it snap into his scar.  He hung on the back, watching the ball thrown into air to start the game.  Yokohama stole it first—Kuroko didn’t even know it was scientifically possible for a man to be taller than Midorima and John, but there he was: gigantic and purple.  Kuroko took an instant dislike to him on principle.

It was one of the most difficult game Kuroko had ever played.  Mostly because Akashi didn’t play.  Akashi had tasked Midorima with replacing his captain role in that match, and for Kuroko to direct the flow of the game.  Without Aomine the task was twice as difficult, because Aomine alone was a force to reckon with, and a combo with Kuroko made him an unstoppable tidal wave, stringing everybody under his current.

Kuroko stole the ball from the giant, being very careful not to get hit by the careless swing of those limbs, and passed it to Midorima.  There wasn’t enough time for him to make a three-point when he was guarded closely by two guys, so Midorima pivoted and passed it to John.  An attempt of lay-up was made, but the giant was there, intercepting.  The ball was now in Yokohama’s hand. 

They moved quickly to Todai’s territory.  Yokohoma’s 10 didn’t even see that Kuroko was coming for him.  Midorima did, and he made his three-point stance before the ball even got to his hand.  By the time Yokohama realized they weren’t in possession of the ball anymore, the basket was already made. 

**

Kuroko didn’t play a full game.  Akashi benched him in the middle of the second quarter.  He pointed at a certain blond sitting beside Aomine with a tilt of his head as Kuroko passed by.  The coach, in a gesture of support, patted Kuroko on his back absently before going back to discuss a matter over his clipboard with Akashi.  Well.  So that was how it was.

Aomine threw Kuroko a bottle of water.  “Good job, Tetsu!  Man, I’d love to go one-on-one with number 15 myself!”

Feeling guilty again, Kuroko muttered, “Sorry, Daiki-kun.”

“Nah, it’s fine, you dork,” Aomine made a space between him and Kise for Kuroko to sit down.  “Sit down, this guy had sum’thing to tell you.”

Kuroko received a towel from Aomine and sat down.  Kise fidgeted.  Both of his knees bounced so fast it was making Kuroko antsy just to watch.  “Uh, I, I’m sorry,” Kise muttered to his feet.  “For everything.  I was being a total asshole.  It was unfair of me to judge you like that when I- when I didn’t _know._ ”

The referee blew the whistle, signaling a break.  The noise distracted Kise, who looked up, stretching his long neck.  Kuroko learned a lot about himself these past few days after meeting his soulmate: for one, he didn’t know he was _that_ vengeful.  Kise’s apology was heartfelt, but all Kuroko wanted to do was to deliver another punch.  Preferably straight to his nose, so that it wouldn’t be so perfect anymore.  An apology wouldn’t erase the trauma from Kuroko’s years of self-hatred.

He _didn’t know,_ he said.  The sheer ignorance reflected in the statement left a funny taste in Kuroko’s tongue.

“Mm.  Is Kise-kun planning to stay, then?” 

 _Be gone_ , Kuroko didn’t say.  _Off with his head._ A moment of daydream: Aomine, dressed in full knight assemble from the Arthurian novels, ran after Kise, flinging his sword around.

Kise curled on himself even more.  “Um.  If I’m allowed to?”

“Kise-kun,” Kuroko offered his palm for a handshake.  He looked at it, and wished he could spit on it first. “Truce?”

The blond looked up.  He looked unbelieving for one second, but then he smiled so wide his swollen cheek must have hurt.  He clung to Kuroko’s hand like a lifeline.    

Really should’ve spit on it.  Kuroko took his hand away.

“If Kise-kun wants to stay, he has to talk to Akashi-kun first.”

“I will,” Kise sat up straight, determined.  “But first, I just want to say, um, that, um, you were amazing on the court.  The way you were zapping around like- like _whoosh,_ so quick, my eyes couldn’t follow...  And I’m really sorry…”

“Told you so,” Aomine piped in smugly.

Kuroko wasn’t swayed by Kise’s pretty words, but Aomine’s remark brought a slight smile to his face.  “Kise-kun will still have to deal with me, however.  I’m not sure a scrawny guy like me can teach Kise-kun anything.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kuroko was filled with horror.  If Aomine heard—he was the only one who knew what Kuroko’s scar said, and there was also the matter of Kise refusing Kuroko to be his mentor…  If Aomine put two and two together—

“Kurokoc-senpai,” Kise shook his head.  His face was red with shame.  “I said I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean what I said before,”

Steeling himself and ignoring the blond-colored ruckus, Kuroko stole a glance at his boyfriend.  Thankfully Aomine didn’t seem to hear anything.  He was talking to John, who had taken to sit beside him for the fifteen minutes break. His heart didn’t stop pounding harshly in its cage, however, for entirely different reason than twenty minutes of playing basketball.  John, noticing Kuroko staring, grinned.  He was the only American in the team Kuroko got along really well with.

“Good game, Kuroko.  It was fun to watch big men fumbling their way around you, especially when it’s not me, haha.”

Aomine crossed his leg and spun a basketball on his middle finger.  “I don’ fumble myself around Tetsu,”

“Yeah nah, but you were tripping yourself over Kuroko back then when you were pining,”

The ball fell from Aomine’s hand.  “I definitely was not!”

It really did seem like Aomine didn’t hear anything.  Kuroko searched his face and found nothing but embarrassment.  Despite that, relief came to Kuroko slowly. It was like trying to pump dread out of his stomach with a plugged straw. 

John laughed and high fived Kuroko above Aomine’s head.  Kuroko had to stand up to reach John’s hand.  Aomine found that to be utterly hilarious that he fell backwards to the floor, laughing.

“Kuroko-senpai,” Kise called, forcing Kuroko’s attention back to his soulmate.  Annoyance came, before it was replaced with pity, because he looked very much out of place right now.  Everybody was either wearing the club’s uniform or jacket on friendly match like this, and Kise looked like an odd duck with his shoes and hair and non-jersey outfit.  He didn’t know anybody, besides Akashi, Aomine, and Kuroko.  A lot of people also hated him for entering the team without the long trials that everybody had to pass. 

Kuroko had been in that place before.  It was terribly lonely.  If not for Aomine, he probably would’ve quitted.  Were Kise to be anyone else—not his soulmate, for one, Kuroko would’ve gladly taken care of him, like Aomine to Kuroko a year ago. 

But Kuroko could be professional.  If Akashi wanted him to be his mentor, then his mentor Kuroko would be.  Nothing more.

“Does Kise-kun have any proper basketball shoes?”  Kuroko eyed Kise’s shoes critically.  Adidas, outdoor running shoes.  Bright colors.  Kise probably got them from sponsors. 

“Um, no.  This is the only pair that I have.”

“Just because it’s Adidas and shaped like sport shoes do not mean it would be good basketball shoes, Kise-kun.  Shoes are important.  We are running three kilometers in practice alone, every day.  Kise-kun can easily hurt himself if his shoes do not fit.”

“So I should get another one?”

“ _We_ should get another one,” Kuroko corrected quietly.  “Let’s buy it together.”

Kise agreed to that quickly, and they set up a time to go shopping together.  Kuroko wasn’t called back to play, so they talked more about the general rules of a basketball game, how practice usually went, among other things.  After the game ended Kise apologized to Akashi and practically begged to stay.  Other players—especially the junior varsity members—watched the exchange with contempt.

“He doesn’t belong here,” John said.  He worked almost as hard as Kuroko to even enter the junior varsity, let alone to stay in the varsity team, and to see Kise practically invited himself in, even with Akashi’s permission, irked him.

The remark encouraged others to voice their protest.  Akashi’s blatant unfairness was brought up several times.  The coach clapped several times to get everybody’s attention, and the noises died down, before it started again.

“Let’s see what he can do, then,” Akashi said.  He wasn’t speaking loudly, but everyone heard him.  There was something in his tone that made Akashi’s words always listened.  “John- would you do the honor to play one-on-one with Ryouta here?”

John looked positively feral at that.  Kise grimaced, before determination shone from his golden eyes.  He looked over to where Aomine and Kuroko sat, probably to ask for support, but Kuroko didn’t give him any.  It wasn’t fair—if Kise was as amateur as he said he was, even though Akashi deemed him good enough to play in junior varsity, John was in the varsity level after all.  Logically John would have annihilated Kise in seconds.  _Good_ , Kuroko thought grimly, even though he felt bad about it.  Beside him Aomine hooted, not caring which one should win.  The other team members cheered, chanting John’s name.

Akashi picked a basketball and walked to the center of the court.  John and Kise followed him. 

“First ten points,” Akashi said, and threw the ball to the air.

John jumped.  Taller than Kise, he easily grabbed the ball first.  Landing on his feet, he pivoted to avoid Kise, but the latter seemed to have guess his move and stole the ball.  Kise dribbled the ball to the basket and did a very familiar lay-up. 

“That’s Daiki-kun’s lay-up, isn’t it?” Kuroko asked Aomine, just to make sure.

Aomine shrugged.  “Meh, looks like it.  Thousand years away from perfecting it, tho’.”

Kuroko nudged Aomine’s side lightly for that cockiness, because he was wrong.  In fact, Kise was very close to perfecting it.  If he had more experience handling basketball, he would be a carbon copy. 

His amateurism showed when he stumbled as he landed.  That split second was enough for John to run and made a basket for himself.  That was three to two.  John’s name was yelled louder.

Kuroko couldn’t help himself.  He understood Akashi now—a potential like this shouldn’t be wasted.  Akashi saw into his—Kuroko’s—and it was time Kuroko returned the gesture.  He put his hand around his mouth and shouted, “Kise-kun! Next time, land on both of your feet!”

“Yo, Kuroko, don’t help him!” Isaac pushed him lightly. 

Kuroko didn’t budge.  “It’s a waste of talent if Kise-kun doesn’t play.”

“I thought you hated him,” said Isaac.  “You looked like you were ready to murder someone when you trained him before.”

“I did not.”

“That’s true,” Aomine added.  “Last Tuesday, after you played him one-on-one you gave me a very angry handjob.”

“Ew. I was about to point out that Kuroko’s passes were practically bullets lately, you stupid fuck.  I didn’t need to know your sex life.”

By that time, it was five to two in John’s favor.  Isaac took the role of a commentator, “Yo, we’re in the most awaited one-on-one game of the year 2015…”

People laughed once Isaac started.  The tension was now abated after John led the points.  Kise also missed the basket twice now, after attempting to copy Midorima’s form outside the three-point circle.  However, Kuroko knew better.  John looked visibly exhausted after playing almost a full game.  His footwork lagged, and had Kuroko been there playing with him, John wouldn’t be able to catch his pass without fumbling. 

“Kise now has the ball…  he’s dribbling all over the court, moving even further away from the basket, we can only guess what’s on his mind… We should probably tell him that this is a real man’s sport, basketball, modelling is for pansies…”

Confused, John put quite a distance from Kise, keeping himself closer to the basket.  Kise was dribbling along the half-court line.  Without John’s guarding him, Kise could leisurely prepare for a three-point.  This time it was Midorima’s signature move, again.  The club members fell quiet, only then realizing that Kise had been copying their moves all this time.

The ball soared through the air.  Kise ran after it, because John could easily turn the situation back to his favor—if the ball did go in—since he was closer to the basket and Kise was too far away to guard him.

Midorima scoffed and pushed his glasses.  “It will go in,” he predicted.

“Aaaaanddd Kise made the basket!  Three points to Kise Ryota—all beginner’s luck, I assure you…  Letting him have the cherry picking, aren’t you, John… Our dear John here is the mothers’ favorite, I’m telling you…  Couple of fakes from John, an attempt… ohhh, ball went wide…”

Kise was about the furthest thing away from beginner’s luck, and Kuroko noticed this well.  He had an unorthodox skill, but it was a skill nonetheless.  Kuroko had read about talented musicians listening to a song once and being able to played the same melody in an instrument right away… Kise was like that, but he was talented for basketball instead.

Kise wasn’t perfect.  His form still needed work.  His copy of Midorima’s signature move didn’t have the same accuracy as the original did.  While Midorima’s ball made the basket flawlessly, Kise’s hit the rim instead; the ball tittering on the edge before falling into the hoop.  Kise’s try on Aomine’s had the same problem—a good copy, but a blurry one, if Kuroko had to put it into words.

Now the reason as to why Akashi wanted him to be Kise’s trainer seemed to be perfectly clear.  As a passing expert with no other talent whatsoever besides misdirection, Kuroko had to be smart.  He couldn’t play with just sheer power (Kagami—another American returnee Kuroko got along with), sheer talent (Aomine), or sheer magic (Akashi, and this was quite true).  To be able to fully function Kuroko had to steal and pass in the right time and in the right place, and this could only be done by watching other players in the court.

And who else can teach other players’ techniques better than Kuroko, who played by observing other players’ movements?

The whistle blew shrilly at Kise’s tenth point.  Kise cheered, fist pumped in the air, and he didn’t stop grinning even under the force of others’ glares.  John cursed low before he offered his hand to shake.

“Congratulations, I guess,” John spoke bitterly.

Kise smirked, confidence boosted after his win.  “Thank you,” he said loudly. Kuroko thought being a model must have its perks.  He would need that arrogance.  Without it he would probably never going to make varsity, let alone last a week with them. 

Akashi made the whole team shook hands with Kise, which they obliged reluctantly.  It looked like a series of wrestling match in disguise.  Kuroko held back, standing in the very end of the line.  Had Kuroko not gripped Kise’s hands first, the latter would’ve missed him. 

“How did I do?” asked Kise earnestly.

If he were someone else, Kuroko would have congratulated him on his win.  But Kuroko wanted to be mean.  He had always been blunt either way.

“Kise-kun still needs some improvements.  John was exhausted from the previous game.  Kise-kun was very lucky.”

Kise’s grin faltered.  He rubbed his swelling cheek and snorted.   “Alright, that’s fair.  Kuroko- _senpai_ is my trainer anyways.” 

There was a mocking undertone in the word _senpai._ It made Kuroko instantly guilty.  They should have been even since Kuroko’s punch and Kise’s apology, but Kuroko had to be petty, didn’t he?  At this point if Kuroko didn’t apologize they probably wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I am not finished yet, Kise-kun.  Despite of those things that I mentioned, Kise-kun is very talented. I want to harness that.  You did a very good job.”

A wide smile bloomed in Kise’s face.  “Did you mean that?”

Kuroko sighed.  “I wouldn’t repeat myself twice, Kise-kun.”

After that they set up a time to shop for Kise’s shoes.  They agreed at half past three tomorrow evening.  Kise owned a car—of course he _did_ , didn’t he—so they would drive to the store instead of taking the subway.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you can hit me up on officialtsukihina @ tumblr :)


End file.
